#tacky and upsetting

[yippee-optimistically]

i finished dt17 !!!! ive never been more upset. i think if i was more prone to crying i wouldve cried so much i either threw up or passed out. love it ! but it was actually very fun i can definietly see myself rewatching it sometime soon theres just so many good eps :) in honor of this is even started a new doodle canvas. how incredible !! been trying to draw a larger variety of characters bc it was ALL louie on the green canvas so theres a lottt of learning curve going on so far

additionally, i offer a finished drawing

he had pins on his hoodie but im kinda between hcs rn so. removed

[atopvisenyashill]

dany and rhaenyra really couldn't be more different considering dany grew up in abject poverty and rhaenyra was constantly shielded by her status and name. for dany, her name was a death sentence, so they exist in totally different frameworks of what being a “targaryen” even means. it’s this vast difference in upbringing that informs how they rule as well with daenerys giving a lot of attention to how her actions/rule affect the oppressed while rhaenyra doesn’t particularly care about the common people at all!

I'm gonna do what we do at work which is start this out with a lil ground rules corporate talk thing: We assume positive intent as a starting place. I'm taking this in good faith and I hope if anon sees this, they take it the same.

So the first point - that because dany grows up in poverty due to being a targaryen and rhaenyra grows up in privilege due to being a targaryen, that means they are too different and thus can't be compared. Firstly, I think it's just a bit silly when people say stuff like this. Sansa's sexual abuse and isolation at KL isn't somehow less traumatizing simply because she had access to food (food she frequently doesn't eat, because she's traumatized over all the sexual abuse!) nor is Arya's physical abuse in the Riverlands somehow less purely because she had a handful of friends. Catelyn having a husband that loves and respects her doesn't mean that there are not similarities in her raging against the system that has turned on her with Cersei's own rage against the system. There need not be a one to one similarity in order for us to find commonalities in themes and I think this constant "you can't compare those two" just stinks of ~oppression olympics~ but oppression just doesn't work like a checklist and if you experience the required threshold of terror, you "get" to call yourself oppressed in some way.

Moving on, the thing is, both of them experience the emotional and sexual incestuous grooming from an older relative that goes with being a Targaryen:

He pushed back her shoulders with his hands. “Let them see that you have a woman’s shape now.” His fingers brushed lightly over her budding breasts and tightened on a nipple. “You will not fail me tonight. If you do, it will go hard for you. You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?” His fingers twisted her, the pinch cruelly hard through the rough fabric of her tunic. “Do you?” he repeated.

Daemon spent long hours in her company, enthralling her with tales of his journeys and battles. He gave her pearls and silks and books and a jade tiara said once to have belonged to the Empress of Leng, read poems to her, dined with her, hawked with her, sailed with her, entertained her by making mock of the greens at court, the “lickspittles” fawning over Queen Alicent and her children. He praised her beauty, declaring her to be the fairest maid in all the Seven Kingdoms. Uncle and niece began to fly together almost daily, racing Syrax against Caraxes to Dragonstone and back...Eustace, the less salacious of the two, writes that Prince Daemon seduced his niece the princess and claimed her maidenhood...The whole tale soon came out, in no small part thanks to Mushroom himself. King Viserys at first refused to believe a word of it, until Prince Daemon confirmed the tale was true. “Give the girl to me to wife,” he purportedly told his brother. “Who else would take her now?”

both of them also experience a much older sworn sword preying on their youth and fondness for him-

"What did she look like, your Lady Lynesse?" Ser Jorah smiled sadly. "Why, she looked a bit like you, Daenerys." He bowed low. "Sleep well, my queen." Dany shivered, and pulled the lionskin tight about her. She looked like me. It explained much that she had not truly understood. He wants me, she realized. He loves me as he loved her, not as a knight loves his queen but as a man loves a woman. She tried to imagine herself in Ser Jorah's arms, kissing him, pleasuring him, letting him enter her. It was no good. When she closed her eyes, his face kept changing into Drogo's.

Though many lords and knights sought her favor, the princess had eyes only for Ser Criston Cole, the young champion of the Kingsguard and her constant companion. “Ser Criston protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from Ser Criston?” Queen Alicent asked one day at court... However it happened, whether the princess scorned the knight or he her, from that day forward the love that Ser Criston Cole had formerly borne for Rhaenyra Targaryen turned to loathing and disdain, and the man who had hitherto been the princess’s constant companion and champion became the most bitter of her foes.

they are both forced into marriages they don’t want to be in-

Dany looked at Khal Drogo. His face was hard and cruel, his eyes as cold and dark as onyx. Her brother hurt her sometimes, when she woke the dragon, but he did not frighten her the way this man frightened her. “I don’t want to be his queen,” she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. “Please, please, Viserys, I don’t want to, I want to go home.”

"No." On her terrace, in her bathing pool, the little fish would nibble at her legs as she soaked. Even they kissed with more fervor than Hizdahr zo Loraq. "I do not love you."

And though His Grace reasoned with her, pleaded with her, shouted at her, and called her an ungrateful daughter, no words of his could budge her…until the king brought up the question of succession. What a king had done, a king could undo, Viserys pointed out. She would wed as he commanded, or he would make her half-brother Aegon his heir in place of her. At this the princess’s will gave way. Septon Eustace says she fell at her father’s knees and begged for his forgiveness, Mushroom that she spat in her father’s face, but both agree that in the end she consented to be married.

and start conflating violence, power, and safety in their minds-

The princess was not slow in answering this charge. She dispatched Prince Daemon to seize Ser Vaemond, had his head removed, and fed his carcass to her dragon, Syrax.

“He would make a monster of me,” she whispered, “a butcher queen.” But then she thought of Drogon far away, and the dragons in the pit. There is blood on my hands too, and on my heart. We are not so different, Daario and I. We are both monsters.

you say for dany her name is a death sentence, but for rhaenyra, being a targaryen is also a death sentence! not to "they very much killed jesus" you here, but they very much kill rhaenyra! if rhaenyra remains a “good targaryen” she is acutely aware she will lose everything, and this is something dany is aware of as well, it's why she reacts so badly to daario's "queens have no purpose but to warm some king’s bed and pop out sons for him" comment about her marriage to Hizdahr. rhaenyra's mother and both grandmothers die before they’re 25 of childbirth. rhaenyra grew up in the same court gael did, that saera did, that viserra did, likely knew the truth of what happened to each girl, and as a woman who is concealing her bastards, all of that has to terrify her. so she stays the “bad woman” the tyrant, the whore, the visenya, in an attempt to protect her children and that gets her killed. being a targaryen has devastating effects on both of them.

as for the differences in how they rule - i’m gonna be honest and say does it matter how they feel if the result is the same?

when they first come into true power, both women are more concerned with getting revenge than they are for settling the unrest-

“How many?” one old woman had asked, sobbing. “How many must you have to spare us?” “One hundred and sixty-three,” she answered. She had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon.

...whilst at the Red Keep Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen set about rewarding her friends and inflicting savage punishments on those who had served her half-brother...Henceforth, Celtigar decreed, traitors, rebels, and murderers would be beheaded within the Dragonpit, and their corpses fed to the queen’s dragons. All were welcome to bear witness to the fate that awaited evil men, but each must pay three pennies at the gates to be admitted.

both of them compromise on a stance that is integral to their whole platform-

Dany was shocked. “They want to be slaves?” “The ones who come are well spoken and gently born, sweet queen. Such slaves are prized. In the Free Cities they will be tutors, scribes, bed slaves, even healers and priests. They will sleep in soft beds, eat rich foods, and dwell in manses. Here they have lost all, and live in fear and squalor.” “I see.” Perhaps it was not so shocking, if these tales of Astapor were true. Dany thought a moment. “Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman.” She raised a hand. “But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife.” “In Astapor the city took a tenth part of the price, each time a slave changed hands,” Missandei told her. “We’ll do the same,” Dany decided. Wars were won with gold as much as swords. “A tenth part. In gold or silver coin, or ivory. Meereen has no need of saffron, cloves, or zorse hides.”

But the Queen’s Hand argued against this, for both girls had younger brothers. Rhaenyra’s own claim to the Iron Throne was a special case, the Sea Snake insisted; her father had named her as his heir. Lords Rosby and Stokeworth had done no such thing. Disinheriting their sons in favor of their daughters would overturn centuries of law and precedent, and call into question the rights of scores of other lords throughout Westeros whose own claims might be seen as inferior to those of elder sisters. It was fear of losing the support of such lords, Munkun asserts in True Telling, that led the queen to decide in favor of Lord Corlys rather than Prince Daemon.

both of them act vindictively and violently towards a low born woman in conjunction with stupid behavior from the violent men they’ve been groomed into loving-

Forgive me, sun of my life, she thought. Forgive me for all I have done and all I must do. I paid the price, my star, but it was too high, too high… “I thank you, Mirri Maz Duur,” she said, “for the lessons you have taught me.” “You will not hear me scream,” Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing. “I will,” Dany said, “but it is not your screams I want, only your life. I remember what you told me. Only death can pay for life.”

In a voice as cold as ice, she commanded Ser Luthor Largent to take twenty gold cloaks to the Dragonpit and arrest Ser Addam Velaryon. “Question him sharply, and we will learn if he is true or false, beyond a doubt.” As to the girl Nettles, “She is a common thing, with the stink of sorcery upon her,” the queen declared. “My prince would ne’er lay with such a low creature. You need only look at her to know she has no drop of dragon’s blood in her. It was with spells that she bound a dragon to her, and she has done the same with my lord husband.”

and I do think there is some similarity in the way that Dany sacks Astapor and it turns into a nightmareish ruin, and Rhaenyra lets KL fall into ruin as well.

you say rhaenyra doesn’t care about the common people but we don’t get her thoughts nor do we get the thoughts of a single person who is willing to tell the truth about her. both of our reliable sources hate her and mushroom is actively concealing things. we know dany cares about the smallfolk because we get her horror over drogon killing a child - only for her to forget that child’s name and decide the cost of her war doesn’t matter so much as taking her throne. this is the exact same moral justification rhaenyra is making - the safety of the people of KL are an acceptable compromise for her own throne.

what both of them want is less about the crown and more about what it represents to them. for dany, it’s home, belonging, love, safety, the simplicity of her life when it was just her, a viserys who had yet to lose his mind, and an aging ser willem darry. for rhaenyra, it’s the exact same - the simplicity of her life before aegon was born & her mother died, the love in her father choosing her over the men around him, the safety of her children. Both of them reach for violence to achieve those ends because they’ve been taught through a life of violence - albeit different sorts of violence - that force is the only way to protect yourself. And since Rhaenyra ultimately fails in her goal, I believe Daenerys will fail as well. Whether she’s smart enough to pull a Nettles and disappear (disappear not spread more violence ~liberating~ places that are not asking for her help or cultural arrogance) or if she, like Rhaenyra, will find that when she’s reached her limit, when she’s finally and truly lost, the door she thought she left open to escape through has been slammed shut behind her-

But it was not the plains Dany saw then. It was King's Landing and the great Red Keep that Aegon the Conqueror had built. It was Dragonstone where she had been born. In her mind's eye they burned with a thousand lights, a fire blazing in every window. In her mind's eye, all the doors were red.

[sergle]

Beating all the sexually harassing anons with hammers. Get a fucking life creeps

Actually the bar's been raised REALLY HIGH for gross behavior and sexual harrassment, since I did a boob gfm once before already. the worst people always find me and contact me elsewhere, they're never tumblr anons lol

[deadrlngers]

the fact that gortash has a perfect balance between moral lacking tyrant and whimsy tacky man. That is why he bewitched me

[youcanthandelthetruth]

This is the dumbest thing to complain about but it has been 103°F or more every day for a week and a half and like yes I got pretty badly heatsick but more importantly I can't run my lava lamps or light any candles???

[arolesbianism]

I Really need to properly draw Christopher at some point but everytime I want to I just look at her in game sprite and weep for her truest form has already been achieved. What's even the point. This is her in the flesh.

[cxffee-addxct]

🏠

[wholemeallbread]

"valentines." kaiser unceremoniously announces as he tosses a box over your lap. "open it up." he coaxed, sitting down next to you.

a smirk immediately graces your lips as your attention shifts over to him, putting your phone down. "how romantic, disturbing my peace and quiet like this." you tease.

"we're going on a date later, so what's the issue?" dismissal as always, but you know he's equally as playful. his legs cross as he leans on one of his palms, eyeing you intently.

well, what are you waiting for? you open up the box, expecting a simple necklace or pair of earrings, but no. it's a chunky bracelet, filled with charms of alternating colours – blue for him, pink for you. "oh?" you coo, picking up the delicate accessory as you glance at him. "i thought you weren't a fan of tacky jewellery, hm? what happened to that?"

"but you, unfortunately, do." a sigh leaves his lips. "don't you think keeping you happy has more importance than my personal preference? or do you think that lowly of me?"

"sorry, sorry." you mumble, though quite happy in nature, and you take the time to inspect and admire your new gift. around the back, or what was supposed to be the front, it's got a tiny letter nestled right in the middle. "it's got an m on it!"

"for me, obviously." he lifts his hand, raking his fingers through his hair with his tattoo-free hand, and simultaneously showing off his matching bracelet.

you gasp, another wave of excitement washing over you as you realise he's wearing one despite his dislike for this kind of jewellery. he's wearing it for you. and he's got your initial hanging from his wrist.

"you got one too!" you exclaim with joy. kaiser wasn't a touchy person and you knew that, but you just couldn't hold back, crashing into him with a big hug. how could he be upset at you for that?

he can only smile, a hand coming to your lower back and rubbing over your skin. "i love you." he mumurs lowly in your ear.

@kaisentine this was supposed to be a lot shorter but um yeah

[tackyandupsetting]

Gloss vinyl stickers for Ermsy

The Simpsons holds the record for the longest-running scripted primetime television series in the U.S., having first premiered on December 17, 1989. As of now, the show has aired over 700 episodes. 

For more information on the different types of materials I offer and the stickers I can create for you, feel free to get in touch!

[anneonomus]

trying to decorate my first non student apartment and learning in real time that i have bad taste xbsksbsksba

[cheetabites]

☆彡 peppers pt 2 ˳༄꠶

character: hwang in ho / 001 / the frontman

˳༄꠶ summary: five sfw and nsfw general headcannons for the frontman

sfw headcannons

★ as he proceeded as the front man, he acquired a fascination with betrayal within the games. it basically reinforced the belief that humanity would always choose the best for themselves despite the sacrifice of others, and deep down i think he gets off by watching the players kill each other

★ in some way he feels a bit bad for the players who vote to go home. he’s seen the process over and over again and knows that greed outweighs self-sufficiency and compassion for others; for him, these deaths aren’t as enjoyable to watch

★ he hates others that victimize themselves. it leaves him both simultaneously angry and stressed, because what do you mean you’re upset with the situation you got yourself into?

★ when he’s not in the games (as a player), the hierarchy and rules that he has for the staff is much stricter. he doesn’t allow barbarity; like guards threatening each other, fighting, or attempting to take advantage of another person. while he chooses to take players in and make them fight to win, he still has a moral compass

★ he HATES the vips. for him, sure he gets enjoyment of watching the games but he’s never found the need to bet on the players; if anything this further pushes the idea that humanity has lost it. because while others may view him continuing the game as psychopathic, he views it as demonstration to people

nsfw headcannons

★ as the frontman, he doesn’t really have someone that can please him. most of the time when he’s pent up, he’ll just use his hand and his imagination to get off

★ as the frontman, he likes to keep his sexual activities in private. but as a player, since he believes he has some sort of superiority over the others he wouldn’t mind fucking in public; not obnoxiously of course, but with the confidence, courage and no shame. late night sex with him would be so good, but since gi-hun suggests watch shifts it would be harder to actually participate in it (season 2 bathroom scene w/ the frontman when?!)

★ he doesn’t really like watching you ride him. he believes it gives you too much control. he wants to have all control over your pleasure; like whether or not you cum, how many times you cum, ect

★ he’d definitely make a sex tape with you if you were okay with it - but only when he’s not playing the games, so either after the revolt or if he’d never entered the games altogether. he’s the type to burn your sex tape on dvd’s. watching them on a video recorder or a mobile device is too tacky for him

★ he likes it when you whine for him; especially if you’re shy in bed. he’d go all gentle in the beginning, saying stuff like “come on sweetheart, you gotta tell me what you want” and “look at my beautiful sweetheart, so needy for me.” and when he’s finally inside you, he does degrade you, but it’s usually a mix of both praise and degradation

the end! i hope you enjoyed <3!

© cheetabites. don’t translate, claim or repost my works on any platform. jan 4 2025.

[loserlvrss]

｡ ｡ 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓! ( 김.𝐃𝐇 )─────보이넥스트도어

( 四月 ). ──you’ve been bored of leehan’s calm demeanor, so you decided to prank him just to see if he’d start a fight 김동현 &fem!rea. ⟡ one shot, suggestive warn. language, toxic dynamic wc : 1406THOU ++( 𝑒𝓈𝓉. 𝓇𝑒𝓁𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 )

노트 one of my best works

You don’t know why you were doing this. Even as you applied the black, green and blue makeup, you couldn’t think of a valid reason. Yet, here you were, sat on your couch scrolling through your phone, just awaiting the opportunity to prank your sweet, unsuspecting boyfriend.

Maybe he’d gotten too comfortable in your relationship. Hell, you used whatever excuse to try and justify it. But, the truth is, you wanted to see if he had it in him to get mad at you. He was so damn peaceful all the time—you loved that about him, really—nonetheless, deep down, your heart raced with the thought; the anticipation when he’d finally catch a glimpse of your artwork that he’d deem someone else’s.

This was fun.

You knew it’d work. You’ve never let Donghyun purposefully leave marks on your skin, not because it didn’t feel good to have him kiss you but, simply because you’ve always found them tacky and a hassle to cover up. You’d wasted so much makeup in the past trying to do so, so whenever he’d come close to leaving purple patches, you’d tell him to stop. He’d even tried to bargain by saying he'd just leave them in places only he could see but, you still refused.

Especially if you couldn’t return the favor.

You knew this was an evil way to push his buttons, that you oh-so-desperately wanted to see pushed. It was selfish, really, however at this moment in time the plan was already set into action. You wanted to start a fight, just to see if he could.

He’s never gotten mad at you. He’s never yelled at you. He’s never dared put a hand on you. And, that was a dream but, somewhere deep down, you knew it was also just as boring as it was desirable. You wanted him to yell at you, tell you what to do—at least once—manhandle you, throw you around a bit, pull your hair, grip your skin...anything.

You wanted so much, and maybe this wasn’t the right way to propose it but, it didn’t matter anymore as his voice broke through the silenced air.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?” You asked, acting oblivious as you scrolled through Twitter and Instagram in turn.

He shrugged, and you don’t know if it was the fact that he seemingly didn’t care, or if it was that maybe he just brushed it under the rug as anything else, that began to piss you off.

Nonetheless, you decided you were in it for the long run. After all, you wanted to see if he’d start the fight. It was game you wouldn't lose.

And, throughout the rest of the afternoon you’d catch Donghyun staring in your direction, shifting his gaze when you’d make eye-contact. He kept a calm demeanor, never asking again what the purple marks on your neck were. He’d even hugged you before he left for practice, getting all up close and personal with the artwork.

You were finding it hard to believe he hadn’t actually noticed.

Maybe he was gathering his thoughts. Maybe he was trying to decided why you didn’t smell like another man—why he knew you wouldn’t do that to him. Maybe as much as his buttons were pushed, this was it for his stemmed anger. Maybe dance practice was his way to relieve the stress you caused from time-to-time. Maybe the cool, calm and collected Donghyun was the only version of your otherwise, smiley, boyfriend.

Maybe you were beginning to feel bad because you had no idea the feelings he had towards this prank. Did it upset him? You wouldn’t be none-the-wiser to it if it had. He was good at shielding emotions, and maybe that’s where you needed to draw the line. Maybe that’s where your conversation should’ve began, instead of whatever the Hell TikTok had inspired you to do.

You kept looking at the clock on your home screen, counting down the minutes until he’d come back to you. And, just as you had decided to end the prank, opting for a civil—adult-ish—confession of wrong-doings, a text illuminated your dark screen.

It read: We need to talk.

Yet, you couldn’t decipher the hidden meaning. Of course, you knew what it was about, that’s the only thing that’s been wrong throughout the last few months between you two. What else could it be? And why, now that you were finally getting what you wanted, didn’t it feel good?

You didn’t answer him, partially because you didn’t know what to say; it was a prank. I just wanted to see if you’d get mad at me. I’m so bored of this. Nothing seemed correct, or frankly, truthful.

You also knew that he wasn’t far. He wouldn’t have texted you otherwise, just to torture you—though it would’ve been deserved. So, you waited by the door for your boyfriend to get back, the thought of washing away the eyeshadow long gone.

Then, it finally opened with the pattern of your key code. The air became thick and you found it hard to swallow with a lump in your throat. Were you sorry? yes. Did you feel bad for being immature? yes. Was a tiny part of you still curious to see how this would play out?

yes.

"Y/n," Was the first, and only thing he muttered for a couple of excruciatingly long minutes. You watched anxiously as he put his bag down, eyed him as he took his shoes off, and almost burst when he ran a hand through his hair. Maybe Donghyun was able to torture you, even if unintended.

His eyes finally met yours but then they drifted to your neck, and further to your collarbone. He knew. He's known since the first question left his lips hours and hours ago.

"What's that?" His arms snaked between each other, and you found it wrong to think it was hot but, you very much did.

Almost like deja vu, the same feeling crept up from down within you. "What's what?" You reenacted.

Although, this time, he didn't let it go.

Donghyun approached you quickly, too fast to get away before you were sandwiched between the plaster and his body.

His hands were slow with movements. Those oh-so-stupid-fucking-hands that had you, literally, at his fingertips. One forcing your head by your jaw to expose your neck, while the other brushed away the hair that disguised the marks from his view.

You fronted being indifferent but, truth be told, if he wasn't holding you up your knees would have buckled already, leaving you as a mess on the floor in front of him.

"You must think I don't know you," He voiced, holding eye-contact as he pushed his thumb between your lips, gathering just enough saliva to then press the digit to your neck and swipe. And, it smudged with enough force, despite being labeled as waterproof. "Tell me why you felt the need to paint these on. I couldn't think of one good reason all day, princess."

And, the nickname he always called you—innocently and less than—had your heart in absolute shambles; the anticipation was just as good as if he'd raised his voice, you thought.

Maybe your vanilla-scented boyfriend had finally gotten the hint that you wanted more, despite going about it in a less than thoughtful way. And, maybe you realized that you didn't hate that he was always nice, no you loved that about him but, sometimes it was okay if he wanted to be a little bit meaner with you. After all, he could always say my...anything he wanted, and that would still mean that he saw you as his forever only.

"I-I," You couldn't think straight when he attached his lips over the previously (fakely) marked spots. His breath was hot, lips gentle then firm as he sucked against the spots he knew you'd rarely let him have his way with. "I—uh, fuck. Leehan,"

His voice was low against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and a whimper up your throat, "If you wanted something, you could've just asked me, baby. I'd give you anything."

The eyes that you've grown comfortable with always seemed to be there despite the firm placement he had you in. You knew he loved you more than anything, so you knew his words were true. And, his demeanor broke when he kissed your lips, almost giving you whiplash.

His palms laid flat against your cheeks, thumbs rubbing sweetly, "If you wanted everyone to know that you're mine, let me do it myself."

© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

networks : @kstrucknet

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back to masterlist!

[moonstruckme]

Hey girl 💖 Would love a comfort fic with James or poly!Marauders after r had a really bad day? Just cuddles and comforting words. Sure most of us need it right now 💖

Thanks for requesting my love <3 I did try to make this seem like it could just be about any bad day but for my US babes and anyone else that's going to be affected by the election, I really hope you're doing okay and I hope we're all okay over the next few years. Even if we don't all have a James to comfort us, we can still be there for each other <3

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 607 words

You’re in bed when James finishes brushing his teeth. He can see your shoulders shaking underneath the covers. 

His chest aches as he goes to you. It’s not the first time you’ve cried today and it probably won’t be the last for a while, all your hurt and anger and grief compounding on you as time goes on. James gets into bed and twines his arms around your middle, pressing his nose into your warm cheek. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs. 

Your sobs worsen, and you turn, face to his chest and arms reaching around him with an unthinking neediness. You don’t believe him. 

“It is.” He kisses the top of your head firmly, hugging you closer. You seem like you need a bit of solidity right now. “You’ll be alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you.” 

James lets you cry. Your sniffles grow thick, James’ chest under your face wet with tears and snot. He wonders if your head hurts from how much you’ve wept today, makes a mental note to get you some water in the morning if he can’t manage it tonight. Your whole body shakes with deep, aching sobs. 

“I’m sorry,” you say after a while, words jolting. “I can’t—I keep thinking in circles.” 

“Baby, it’s okay.” James rubs your back. He hates to see you upset, but he wouldn’t begrudge you it. You’ve had a day. As much as he wishes he never had to see you cry, he feels grateful that you’d do it with him. “It’s okay to be sad for a little while.” 

“I know. I know, but—” Another series of sobs jostles their way out of you, painful sounding. Your voice quiets to a tight whisper. “I just can’t stop.” 

James swallows the blockage in his own throat, making big, sweeping circles over your back. “Do you want a little distraction?” he offers. 

You nod into his chest. 

“Okay.” He thinks for a second. “Well, tomorrow, I thought we might go to the bookstore if you’re feeling up to it.” He pauses, waiting to see if this is what you want. When you don’t make a sound he continues. “We could make a day of it. There’s that Thai place you like nearby, so maybe we grab some takeaway, sit and read in the park…” You make a snuffling sound against his chest, and James gives you a squeeze. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Your voice is stuffy and sad, but calmer. “That sounds nice.” 

“I glanced at the weather report earlier.” He drops a kiss on your head. It coaxes you into looking up at him. Your eyes are wet and puffy, but James smiles at you, pinching your nose clean gently. “It’s supposed to be nice out. We’ll probably need our coats, but still, not too bad. You could break out those new socks you got.” 

You smile wobbily. “It feels like sort of a silly thing to be excited about now,” you say softly, “socks.” 

“That’s what I love about you, though.” James holds your face and gives in to kissing wherever the urge strikes him, your skin warm and tacky. “You’re always finding things to be excited about, that make you happy. I love that. It’s the little things, right?” 

You sniffle. You’re far from happy now, but you’re settling. “I guess.” 

“It’s nice when it’s the big things too, of course,” he concedes, “but for tomorrow I can still get my girl a book and a takeaway. Right? Okay?” 

“Yeah.” You kiss him, salt on both of your lips. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Jamie.” 

“You’ll be okay,” he promises you again. “I’ve always got you.”

[submattsmxmmy]

ghostface!matt x slutty!reader x ghostface!chris

👻🎀 content warning: smut, degradation, predator/prey dynamic, restraints, knife play, blood play

👻🎀 summary: you're throwing a halloween party at your house in a remote area. the night becomes like a thrilling, real-life horror movie after your friends, matt and chris both show up dressed as the infamous ghostface

Dead dove: do not eat 💖 Hiii, it's @ariestrxsh and this is my secondary account. Here is my contribution to kinktober. I know the Ghostface trope has been done so many times, but I figured it would still be a fun little smut to write in honor of Halloween.

idk if this would be considered a dead dove: do not eat fic, but it certainly contains some rather dark material, so i'd rather label it that way to be safe. also, my reader's slutty nun outfit may offend you if you're religious, so please scroll and don't read if it's going to upset you.

masquerade

"What are you guys going as tonight?" You asked Nick, Matt, and Chris as the four of you aimlessly wandered around the Halloween store that was littered with all the decor you could dream of for the party you were throwing later. You'd done most of your holiday shopping a few weeks prior, but you just needed a few final touches to complete the vibe you were going for.

"I'm going as Stu Macher," Nick responded, fiddling with some tacky Halloween decoration. "I'm going as Ghostface," Chris confidently replied, and your gaze softened as you pictured him in one of those sexy masks.

"Hey, what the fuck, Chris? I'm going as Ghostface," Matt slugged Chris in the arm. Your breath caught in your throat, and your lips fell open as you pictured them both in the Ghostface costume. "Relax. That'll make it more fun. Then no one will know who's who," Chris smirked. "People already have a hard time telling us apart," Matt rolled his eyes.

"What are you going as?" Nick asked you, ignoring his brothers. "Well, I'm going to be the only one out of the four of us who isn't going as a Scream character. But it's going to be a surprise," you told them, wandering over towards a giant cauldron that caught your eye.

"What are you going to use that for?" Matt asked. "Punch bowl! Isn't it perfect?" You asked, picking it up and cradling it in your arms as the four of you continued through the store. "Can you at least give us a hint about what you're going to dress up as?" Chris playfully poked you in the side.

"All I can tell you is, it's gonna be sexy, and you're gonna thank God when you see me in it. I'm trying to get laid tonight," you proudly stated as the four of you headed over to the checkout counter to pay.

Nick, Matt, and Chris dropped you back off at your place, which was out in the middle of nowhere, so you could finish setting up, and so they could change into their costumes. You thought it was fitting you lived in a secluded part of your town's national forest and didn't have any neighbors for miles.

You'd just finished putting out the last of the decorum when people started trickling in. You had fake spiderwebs strewn in every corner, a smoke machine, and a black light.

You were just thinking about how excited you were for the boys to see you in your glowing slutty nun outfit when the doorbell rang, and as you pulled open your creaky front door, you saw Nick covered in fake blood accompanied by a pair of Ghostfaces, the whites of their masks lit up by the black light. "Look at you!" Nick gasped as you gave them a twirl. Chris and Matt's eyes were immediately drawn to your exposed chest and your bare thighs.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface, don't kill me!" You jokingly shrieked, placing your hands on your cheeks and making a fake surprised face. "You look really good," one of them said to you. "So do you guys," you seductively replied, nibbling on your lower lip and looking at the three of them, but especially Matt and Chris. You had a bit of a thing for masked men.

They shuffled into your house, admiring the way you had decorated. More guests started arriving, and the party started to really take off. Nick started hitting it off with a guy you worked with who was dressed as a skeleton, which left you, Matt, and Chris alone.

"You guys wanna scare Nick tonight?" Matt asked menacingly, tilting his head in his ghostface mask, which had no business being as hot as it was. You bit your lip at him.

Chris could tell you were entranced by the costume. "Like the mask, sweetheart?" Chris asked in a deep, menacingly voice that was strikingly familiar to that of the original Ghostface, taking his 'prop' weapon and running the edge along your cheek, but the metal was sharp and cold. "Shut the fuck up. Oh my god, is that a real knife?" You asked him, staring wide-eyed at it.

"Yeah, why does that scare you? Or do you like it?" Chris said in a spooky voice. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Neither. You guys are so immature. Have fun scaring Nick. I'm gonna go enjoy my party and try to find someone to hook up with. Try not to cut anyone with that thing."

You rolled your eyes at them and pushed past them, trying to hide the effect they were having on you. Both sets of eyes traveled to your ass as you walked away. "Why don't we play a prank on her instead?" Matt inquired. "Yeah, she could use a little loosening up," Chris responded.

You couldn't deny that the way Chris had put that blade up to your cheek while he was dressed like that was having a rather strong effect on you, an effect so strong that you desperately wanted to turn back around, grab them by their solid black robes, and beg them both to rail you while they wore their Ghostface attire.

You'd always found them both attractive, but they were your good friends, and most nights that the sexual thoughts about them creeped into your psyche, you were able to will it away, or something you'd never admit out loud to - sometimes you'd just take care of the aching between your legs really quickly, and the thoughts would usually dissipate on their own, but tonight was different.

You could feel a damp warmth between your thighs as you sauntered off in another direction to greet some of your other friends, but even as you asked them how the party was and tried to get your mind off of the Sturniolo boys, you found yourself peeking over your shoulder, stealing glances at them, and losing your inner battle with yourself to fight off your urges.

It had been so long, and you were so horny.

"I think that guy over there is checking you out," your friend who had animals ears on nudged you and glanced off in the direction of the punch bowl you'd bought earlier. Your eye caught a tall man with zombie makeup on that you didn't recognize grabbing himself a cup of spiked punch, his gaze flicking up at you every few seconds. You thought he was kind of cute.

"Go talk to him," your friend urged you, lovingly squeezing your arm. You took one more glance in the direction of where Matt and Chris had been standing just moments ago, seriously considering trying to pursue one of them instead, but when your eyes scanned over the crowd, you didn't see either one of them. You'd missed your chance.

"Okay, fine," you whispered to your friend, rolling your eyes and working up the courage to approach him. You took a deep breath and headed in his direction.

"Hey, do I know you?" You asked, grabbing yourself a red solo cup and serving yourself some alcoholic punch. "You know, some would say your costume is offensive," he said, ignoring your question and motioning towards your exposed breasts in your very ungodly outfit.

"Then why don't you rip it off of me?" You flirtatiously shot back. He looked unamused with you.

"Hey, so, what's the deal with your friend?" He asked, taking a sip of his drink and his gaze looking past you to where you were previously standing. "Oh, my friend," you said in a slightly disappointed tone, realizing you'd just approached and been very forward with a man who had been interested in the girl standing next to you the whole time.

You started back off in the direction you came from, and your friend glanced over at the embarrassment in your expression. "What happened? Was he a dick to you?" She asked, concern in her eyes while she cradled your face. You could understand why he was looking at her instead of you.

"No, nothing like that. If you think he's cute, you should go talk to him. I'll be right back," you responded, feeling your face get hot. You pushed past a crowd of people to get to the bottom of your staircase, and you hurried up the steps before your tears could fall.

It wasn't so much that you were upset about not getting the guy. You weren't even that interested in him. It was a combination of a few things, really.

It was the humiliation of misreading the situation, the insecurity you felt about not being as pretty as your friends, and the constant self-doubt you had about whether you really were a slut like everyone called you and if any guy would ever want you again because of it.

Through your teary vision, your bedroom door caught your eye. You stopped dead in your tracks, sniffling and wiping away your tears as alarm bells went off in your nervous system.

Your bedroom door was wide open, and you swore you'd shut it before the first few guests had arrived. You walked through the door frame cautiously, overwhelmed by a sensation of having eyes on you, studying your surroundings to see if anything else was out of place.

You shrugged off the feeling of being watched, chalking it up to the fact that it was Halloween, and you had been watching a lot of thriller and horror movies in the couple weeks leading up to your party.

You made your way over to the bathroom sink, setting down your red solo cup on the cold countertop and peering at your reflection in the mirror. You didn't want to spend Halloween night sulking in your bathroom while your two hot best friends were downstairs, strutting around in their sexy Ghostface attire and probably finding other girls to sleep with.

You cleaned off the eyeliner that was smudging on your bottom eyelid, glued the corner of your eyelash back down, and readjusted your breasts in your costume.

After fixing the imperfections with your wardrobe, you decided you weren't going to let the night end without taking a stab at trying to have sex with whichever one of the Sturniolo brothers you saw first, excluding Nick of course. You were done pretending like you weren't completely taken with them.

Your gaze flickered over to the reflection of your partially open closet door in the mirror. Again, you could have sworn you'd left it closed. Filled with dread, you slowly tiptoed out of the bathroom, past your bed, and over to your closet. You rested your hand on the round, metal door knob and slowly pushed it shut.

You realized how ridiculous you were being, rolling your eyes at yourself and letting out a sigh at how jumpy you'd been lately. You turned back around and started to head out of your bedroom when all of a sudden, you heard the sound of the closet door creaking open again.

Before you could spin yourself around and identify the threat, you felt a gloved hand cover your mouth and a cold, sharp blade resting against your neck. "What's your favorite scary movie?" The way his voice came through sounding just like Ghostface had you both scared and turned on.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you let out an audible moan against his palm, causing him to pull his hand back. "What was that?" Chris accusingly asked, speaking like himself again. "What the fuck? How do you make your voice sound like that?" You asked in a shaky voice.

He chuckled in your ear, avoiding your inquiry. "Answer me first. What was that sound you just made?" Chris posed the question again. "Nothing. Real funny, Chris. Let me go," you responded.

Another figure appeared in the corner of your eye as Matt walked around in his Ghostface costume, shutting your bedroom door closed. Your heart dropped as you watched him lock it and make his way back over to you. "Let you go? Are you sure you want that?" Matt cooed, running the back of his gloved hand along your cheek and tilting his head down at you. You gulped.

"Is this turning you on?" Chris whispered into your ear. "Gross," you rolled your eyes. "Only one way to find out," Matt menacingly replied. "Why don't you check her, Matt?" Chris smirked under his mask.

Your mouth fell open, and a strangled whimper came through as Matt reached between your legs, lifting up your skirt and slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Immediately, he felt the wetness leak through his glove.

"Oh, she's soaked. Her clit practically has its own heartbeat," Matt relayed to his brother, drawing circles on it with his fingers and talking about you as if you weren't in the room with them. "I bet she'd like it if we took care of that. Don't you think?" Chris wondered, dragging the blade across your collar bone and between your partially exposed breasts.

You couldn't hold back your delighted sounds as they both put their hands on you. It was like a dream come true. Your prayers had been answered. You'd fantasized about them each separately, but the idea of having them both take you on at the same time didn't even seem like an option until now.

"What's turning you on so much? The mask? The knife? The fact that it's me and Matt?" Chris cooed at you, pulling your top down to reveal your tits. He took the knife and started running the sharp edge against your nipples that stiffened at the touch. You immediately shuddered and let out a whimper.

"All of it?" Matt wondered, continuing to play with your pussy that was becoming wetter by the second. "Answer him, slut. What's got you all wet, hmm?" Chris growled into your ear. Of course, it hurt your feelings to be called that, but there was something about the way Chris said it so endearingly that it didn't seem like he was trying to do anything other than turn you on, and it was working.

"Nothing, it's completely unrelated," you lied, biting your lip to hold back another moan, but your attempts failed, and your head fell back against Chris' chest. You felt his hard cock against your backside, and it twitched at the way you struggled to keep yourself composed. "Yeah, mine's unrelated, too," Chris replied sarcastically, staring down at your tits as he continued to tease them with his knife.

You felt Matt's fingers slip into your hole as he started to fuck you with them. "You want us to stop?" Matt asked. You nibbled on your lip and softly shook your head no. "That's what I thought. She's such a little slut," Chris said to his brother. "Don't you know it's always the slut who dies first?" Chris rasped into your ear.

"Oh, she likes that," Matt cooed, feeling your pussy start to throb around his fingers. You tried to hide your reactions, but your body language couldn't keep your secret from the two pairs of Ghostfaces who manhandled you.

"You still never told us your favorite scary movie," Chris pointed out. "Blair Witch Project," you hesitantly answered. "Mmm. That's a scary one. Especially when you live out here," Matt replied. Chris leaned over to Matt and whispered something in his ear that you couldn't quite make out.

"Lay on the fucking bed, slut," Chris responded as they both let you go. "We're gonna go have a little chat in the other room, and you're gonna lay right here and behave," Matt ordered you. "And if you try to run, you're gonna be really sorry," Chris said, waving the knife in your direction.

They both disappeared behind your bathroom door. You heard the sound of Chris and Matt arguing behind the wooden barrier about who was going to have their way with you first, but you had another idea.

When they both emerged from the bathroom, you were gone, and on your nightstand was a note that read: "come find me in the woods, mr. ghostface. xoxo, your prey" with a heart drawn below the lettering.

"Oh, that sneaky bitch thinks she can be in charge of her own fate. We're gonna have fun with her tonight," Chris told Matt as he picked up the note.

They both disappeared out of the room, down the stairs, and out the backdoor towards the dense treeline behind your house with a flashlight Matt had snagged off your kitchen counter.

All they had to do was listen quietly for a few minutes beneath the blanket of stars and clouds, and then they heard you, crushing twigs and leaves under your weight as you tried to stealthily make your way through the forest.

All of a sudden, you were lit up by the flashlight Matt held in hands. "Gotcha," he said in a menacing voice. You froze and stared at them both, unable to move a muscle. "Think you're so slick, huh?" Chris asked in a low, sexy rasp.

"You know what would make this so much more fun? If she had to guess who's who while we take turns fucking her," Matt suggested, taking a few steps towards you. "And if she guesses wrong, we'll make her bleed," Chris laughed, closing in on you as well.

You'd never seen this side of the two brothers, but it excited you more than you were willing to admit.

You started slowly walking backward until you backed into a tree, and you swallowed hard as you felt its rough trunk under your palms, realizing you didn't have anywhere to go.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface. Spare me!" You whined, but you couldn't hold back your smirk as Matt pulled the knife out of his robe and cut your costume from your body. You gasped as the fabric fell the floor in front of your feet. You'd never imagined your night would go like this. In fact, this was hotter than anything you could have ever dreamt up.

"We told you that you'd regret running." It was that same ominous, threatening, and sexy voice that Chris had used earlier in the night, so that must have been him. "I thought we told you to behave," said the other, sounding just like the first one. Fuck, you thought.

You watched as the boy with the knife started to cut a hole in his robe, and your eyes widened, and your jaw fell open as you realized what he was doing. You watched as his dick poked through the black fabric, staring you down. He handed off the knife to his brother.

"Since you like to run, one of us is going to have to hold you still," the second one said pinning your wrists above your head with one hand with the other, he held the blade up in front of your face. You saw yourself in the reflection of the sharp metal accompanied by the man in the Ghostface mask beside you, and it sent goosebumps across your flesh.

He closed the distance between the weapon and your breasts, and he started tracing your nipples again with the knife's edge. Your chest rose and fell as your breath quickened. You peered at the boy who was settling between your legs, grabbing ahold of his big, veiny cock with his gloved hand as he started pumping it back and forth a few times, making sure it had reached its full potential.

He hiked up your leg, wrapped your thigh around his waist, and pulled your panties to the side before sinking it into your heat and stretching you out. "So tight," he groaned deeply, feeling the way you gripped his dick. You let out a few loud moans as you adjusted to his size, taking every inch of him.

"That's it. Take it like the slut you are," he gruffed, picking up the pace and wrapping his gloved fingers around your neck. "Like that?" The boy who was holding your wrists cooed as he dragged the sharp object across to your other peak.

You loved the way both Ghostface masks reflected your fear back at you as well as your pleasure, their empty eyes, and their contorted mouths, taunting you. You glanced back at the brother who was between your legs, focusing on his thrusts. His fast and powerful thrusts.

Every time he bottomed out in you, a desperate mewl escaped your lips, filling the atmosphere. The masked man started to mimick the sounds that poured from your mouth while his brother fucked you, and you adored every second of it.

You loved the way they were feeding your sick fantasies, holding you at knife point, wearing their sexy costumes, and fucking you dumb while they degraded you. Your sounds became louder, more urgent, and less inhibited. You could feel the intensity building.

"Scream for me, bitch," the man between your legs chuckled. His mean words, his hand around your throat, the movement of his hips, and the cold, sharp metal dancing across your skin were enough to cause you to snap.

You hit the point of no return, clenching around the mystery man's rod, sending him to the same fate shortly after. You could feel his twitching cock filling you up as your orgasm took its course, the two of you moaning in unison while you finished together. Your legs grew weak as you came.

"Oh my god, Chris. Matt. Whoever you are," you breathlessly panted. You thought for sure you'd be able to tell them apart by now, but you had no idea, and you found it all the more enticing.

"Such a good girl for me," he cooed, slowing down his thrusts, pulling out, and watching his seed flow out of you. He stared down in awe at the mess he made, taking in the sight and savoring it while his breathing pattern returned to normal.

"I've been waiting for this," the boy to your left said as he switched places with his brother. He took the knife, hooking it into your panties and slicing the delicate material, watching the fabric fall to the ground and revealing your pretty pussy to him.

Then he cut a hole in his robe like his brother had done, and you peered down at his gorgeous cock poking through the tear in the material.

He roughly pried open your legs, guiding them open with the blade. He dug into the inside of your right thigh with his gloved hand and rested the knife on your lower stomach. You couldn't keep yourself from admiring his big, throbbing dick, and you sharply inhaled as you felt him slip his tip into your entrance.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned as he bucked his hips forward, his entire length vanisihing into your tight hole. Your eyes flicked back up to his Ghostface attire, taking in the incredible view of being fucked by a man in such a sexy mask.

The man beside you restrained your wrists, pinning them above your head again. "Alright. Time to guess. Who am I?" The boy beside you asked in his creepy Ghostface voice, tilting his head at you as he tightened his grip. You innocently peered up at his mask, searching for some kind of hint in his demeanor.

"Chris, is that you?" You asked uncertaintly. "Wrong. Remember what happens when you guess wrong?" Matt cooed, running his gloved finger along the underside of your chin. Your eyes were glazing over, your lips fell open, and your cheeks were flushed.

Chris applied more pressure to the knife, running the blade along your lower stomach and drawing blood. You let out a satisfied whine as you felt the release of the knife cutting you. The warm, sticky red fluid glistened in the moonlight as it slowly dripped down your abdomen.

"So pretty," Matt whispered, brushing your messy hair out of your face and his eyes dancing between your desperate expression and the way the blood looked so beautiful on your skin. Moans began pouring from you again as Chris fucked you senseless up against the tree.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface. Harder," you begged, your eyes lazily rolling back into your head as your breasts bounced to the cadence of his thrusts. "Cock dumb little slut," Chris menacingly chuckled at your pathetic pleading, but he still gave you what you so enthusiastically craved, relishing in your desperation for him.

You loved feeling helpless and giving yourself over so willingly to both brothers as they used you for their own pleasure. Your whimpers became louder and fuller as you neared your tipping point again.

"Harder," you cried out again before your orgasm took over. Your gaze danced between both of their masks, and your pussy started rhythmically throbbing around Chris' cock as he delivered a few more monumental strokes. You felt a wonderful, relieved feeling in the pit of your stomach as you came unraveled under the control of both boys.

Your brows pinched together, your knees weakened, and your stare began to lose its focus until you couldn't concentrate on anything except for the pure pleasure and ecstasy coursing through you. You were pumped full of Chris' cum as his cock twitched inside of you, and as you came down from your intense adrenaline rush, you felt all your muscles relax.

Both men chuckled, removing their masks and revealing their identities to you. Sure enough, you had guessed wrong. Chris leaned in and chuckled into your ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You may have guessed wrong, but we're going to spare you. You're worth way more to us alive than dead."

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Could you do reader being super busy on valentines and thinking sweetheart!anakin forgot about it and came home upset just to see the living room decorated with valentines decor and candles then later after they eat the dinner anakin made, they cuddle and watch romcoms and reader tears up from the overwhelming love pretty pleaseeee!!!

PAIRING: sweetheart!anakin x f!reader

ANAKIN SKYWALKER doesn’t get the hype. He never has.

All week, the world has been drowning in Valentine’s Day propaganda—tacky heart-shaped balloons, overpriced bouquets, too sweet themed chocolates, desperate men running around last minute to prove their love.

It’s ridiculous. It’s performative.

If you love someone, you should show them that every day. At least that's how he was raised.

If a man really loved his girl, he should show her every single day, every single hour, every minute, every second.

And he did.

In every little thing.

When he woke up before you and made your morning coffee just the way you liked it. When he pulled you against his chest at night, tucking your head beneath his chin because he couldn’t sleep unless you were close. When he kissed your temple absentmindedly while passing behind you in the kitchen. When he memorized every tiny detail about you—the way your lips parted slightly when you focused, the way you always did a little spin when you were happy, the way you got this certain look when you were about to be stubborn.

So no, he didn’t need Valentine’s Day. But… he knew you secretly loved it.

So, here he is—pacing through the dining room, hands on his hips, eyes flicking over every last detail to make sure everything is just perfect. Because if there’s one thing Anakin Skywalker is going to do, it’s make sure you’re loved. Properly. Every damn day.

You weren’t expecting much this year. Anakin has made it very clear how he feels about Valentine’s Day. And honestly? You agreed with him.

You love how he loves you—every day, in a hundred different ways.

The way he never lets you open your own car door. The way he keeps a hand on your back when you walk through a crowd. The way he rubs your feet without you having to ask, even when he’s tired himself. How he drags most of the grocery bags, not wanting you to have the heaviest. How he knows every single little details of your life, in a good way

So no, you don’t need a big Valentine’s Day thing. You have valentine's every day, if you were being honest

So when you step through the front door and see the house bathed in candlelight—warm, flickering red wax dripping from every available surface—your breath caught in your throat, heart stopping working just for a second, eyes widening to make sure you're not dreaming.

“Ani?” you call softly, stepping inside

And then you smell it.

Rich tomato sauce, garlic, fresh basil—your favorite Italian dish. Your favorite.

You follow the scent to the dining room, and—oh.

He’s standing there, arms crossed, leaning against the table like he didn’t just turn your whole world upside down. Warm glow created by the candlelight caught in his golden curls, in the soft blue of his stupidly beautiful eyes.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, yet there’s still, always, something soft behind it.

He pushes off the table, moving towards you with that unfair grace of his, like he’s already got you figured out. Like he knows you’re two seconds from melting.

His hands are warm when they slide over your waist, pulling you in close—chests flush, foreheads nearly touching.

“You know how I feel about today,” he murmurs, and you nod, hands curling over his biceps.

“But.” His nose brushes yours. “You love it.”

Your heart did a flip of shy happiness

“And I love you.”

Oh. Oh.

“I love you every damn day,” he says, and then—finally—he kissed you. Slow, deep, deliberate.

Like he's proving his point.

Anakin pulled back with a grin. “C’mon,” he said, intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you towards the dining table. “Made your favorite.”

Your eyes widened. Sure enough, an entire Italian feast was laid out by candlelight—fresh pasta, warm garlic bread, a bottle of your favorite wine already uncorked.

Your chest burned with love. Tears ready to spill out of your eyes

“You did all this?” you whispered.

“Course I did, baby.”

And when he pulled out your chair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before taking his own seat across from you, you realized—

Maybe he did love you a little extra today.

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[shuenkio]

Please ? — 현진

Paring: Hyunjin X M!reader

Synopsis: Making your boyfriend mad? He had enough from bottled up ever since, now you'll pay the price.

Genre : Smut — no plot. Cw: smau.

Non proof read | Eng is not my first.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

Note: A drabble smut.

The bed cracked, by the impact of the masculine hot man pounding his enormous length into his lover's ass. His boyfriend had been a very bad boy, ever since and didn't even admit that he was wrong. Hyunjin was bottled up by his anger, and frustrated whenever M/n doing that that upset him, such like touching other guy hand, clinging to their friends a lil much than usual.

"You little piece of shit, MMHA— take it you fucking slut, know your place that you're only mine, you're my god damn boyfriend, not the slave to put up for good to the others than me M/n! Fuck"

Hyunjin growl like a husky while balls deep down into M/n's hole relentlessly, pressing his hip to the hilt inside, rough pounding him with no mercy to punished M/n for good, making sure he'd remember who he belong to. M/n can't put his fingers on anything, his wrists are being tied by one hand due to his lover. Your world has become Hyunjin's toy — His own personal toy, this was the consequences of doing bad, something that Hyunjin had already been saying countless times that he doesn't like M/n to make contact, touching, and clingy to everybody a lot however M/n didn't listen now here we are, M/n's anal is being destroy and abused by Hyunjin's cock non stop.

"I'm sorry kiwi— I'm so surry— w-wont happened ever.... Again" Feeling guilty along with how rough he is fucking without any rest, M/n left no choice but to beg for mercy, to spare, to breathe. Yet Hyunjin only gets more turned on with the way you beg for him, the puppy doe eyes never fail to melt Hyunjin's heart ever, it was one of the reasons why this relationship started.

Hyunjin's chuckle, his voice vibrates through the body of M/n with his sly and chucky smirk. Your whimpers and squirming is like music to his ears which he can't stop pulling his sensitive dick out of M/n even though the moment the latter said sorry— all anger in Hyunjin faded like a dust.

"Puppy you think by saying sorry is over? How funny because you're not only fueling me more but making yourself so fuckable rn!!

Shit— why are you so MITHERFUCKING tight owchh mhmm like that— I'm gonna

No—No— Ahh Ahh I'm coming m/n, this is insane I can't stop— so fucking STRANGE I'm FUCK— CUMMING" Gurgle sound were heard, it was crazy that Hyunjin nut so hard to this point of him, shooting lot jazz of hot cum rope inside of his boyfriend's inside, painted them from flesh to tacky smelly white. As Hyunjin's expression contours in pleasure, results him to hold onto M/n's waist for his dear life that could leave hands prints, whilst his throbbing rock hard cock pulsing to the vast unable to pull it out due to his overstimulated sensitive, he throwing his head facing the ceiling where in his eyes were nowhere to be seen except white. The sensation never failed to turn Hyunjin into a lifeless demon, by your tight hole clenching him like a vice every single time.

M/n's also turn into a sculpture, his boyfriend's orgasm is almost too intense which clicked instantly, triggered the small latter's penis as a load of cum, spurt out staining on the black mistress. He's fucked up.

"Never make me mad again my forever — this is how I punish you okay? You know how much I fucking love and would burn the world for you. Please."

Funtalk: How was it... It's another experiment ;_; would you ever want to leave Hyunjin? I hope you say no.